


Do Not Open:  Tentacles Inside

by Anonymous



Category: Tomb Raider (Video Games)
Genre: Other, Tentacle Rape, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-27
Updated: 2021-01-27
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:49:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28493403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: It was supposed to be easy--go in, grab the relic, get out.  Other interested parties sending gunmen to take it from her was unfortunate but not unexpected.  What actually was in that Grecian urn?  Unexpected and very unfortunate.
Relationships: Lara Croft/Tentacles
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18
Collections: Bulletproof 20/21, Fanfic Anonymous





	Do Not Open:  Tentacles Inside

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Harpalyke](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harpalyke/gifts).



Lara surveyed the chamber through the haze of pistol smoke. A squad of heavily-armed men lay in groups from the entryway. It had looked like this was going to be simple when she heard the echoing footsteps and dove behind a stone dais. The charged in, guns-a-blazing, and got cut down for it.

She surveyed the room, scowling at the shattered _amphora_. The earthenware vessel was the only apparent object in this entire subterranean vault, and she’d only barely managed a glimpse of it before things went sideways. Turning from the wreckage, she kicked over one of the dead gunmen, frisking him for anything that might identify him or the reason he was here.

The fact someone sent gunmen after her meant that either she had recently pissed off someone powerful and ruthless—always a possibility—or that their employer thought something very valuable was in this tomb. Which was more tantalizing.

Her search turned up nothing. She gave a cursory examination of the other shooters, before checking down the hallway. Possibly… probably they had friends. It’d be best to wrap up her search and get out, and even then she’d likely need to shoot her way to the surface. What could these people want? 

Could it be the amphora? It looked like simple earthenware, but looks could be deceiving. She turned and walked over, intending to examine the wreckage to see if the contents interesting, but paused. A thick, glistening fluid spread from the shattered pottery. Much more liquid than she thought could fit in the container.

And the fact the thick fluid trailed _up_ the wall was definitely not normal.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. Her hands tightened on her dual handguns, and she sprang, diving to the side as something dropped from the ceiling, landing _wetly_ in the space she had just vacate. 

Whatever it was, it was too big to have fit inside the amphora. Except that was the only pace it could have come from. It was mostly shapeless, pallid in the dark tomb, a mass of flailing limbs. She circled, firing off the remainder of the magazines in her handgun, before reloading. Rapid, practiced, not fast enough.

The thing pulsed forward, and Lara vaulted back over the dais. It slammed, or splattered, into it and then flowed over, rubbery limbs reaching and grasping. New magazines in, Lara fired repeatedly. Black ichor dripped from the holes she punched in, and it made a wheezing, burbling song, but the thing didn’t seem to notice.

Two more empty mags.

It paused for a second, shrinking back suddenly, Lara circling the creature, eyes fixed as she reloaded. Suddently, it rose up on its bulk, and a stream of fluid issued from somewhere on the underside of the creature. Lara dove and rolled, dodging most of the liquid.

Most of it.

Something cool soaked its way through her shirt, under her left arm. As sprang back to her feet, the coolness of the liquid turned to she was unsteady on her feet as her left leg buckled. Ice ran up her left arm when she brushed her wrist against he wet patch on her shirt. She fumbled as she tried reloading, the gun feeling too heavy.

This was bad.

The venom, or whatever it was, was unbalancing her. Instead of an athletic dodge or sprint away, she dragged her left foot and hobbled. Even her right hand wasn’t working well, as she managed to reload that gun successfully and miss the creature with at least half of the magazine.

The worst part was she missed a shot at two meters.

Her left knee buckled, and she braced herself against the cold stone of the wall, trying to push herself to her feet with her right, still clutching the pistol. It’s mate had clattered to the ground several paces back, after her left hand went unresponsive.

The beast surged hunched down, flattening itself against the stone floor, before springing at her with a tremendously fast lunge; spreading its tentacles and mass wide enough that dodging would’ve been hard even if her left limbs were working. She hit the stone wall hard, held there by the thing’s bulk. Her right hand dropped the gun on impact and reflexively clawed at it; she raised her right knee up to force _some_ distance as limbs curled and writhed.

A cold river ran down her body, the thing spitting more venom at her point blank; droplets splashing against her face and running down her body. Not risking anything, the thick, ropy tentacles trapped her limbs as it pulled its body against itself in a tight embrace. Rubbery, muscular limbs limbs curled around her abdomen and throat, constricting tightly. She managed an awkward swing into the thing’s mass with her right arm, before it went and fell limply into the limbs.

Her limbs were leaden, but not _numb_. She felt the thing against her, limbs pulsing—feeling strong enough to hold her down even if her arms and legs were listening to her, her wet clothes pressed against her wet skin. When it got around to eating her, it was going to _hurt_.

Except as it turns out, it didn’t seem she was that lucky.

Tentacles felt against her, brushed up her bare legs and arms and against the wet clothes she had on. When she managed to turn her head when one brushed against her cheek, it let out a gurgle, and tentacles coiled, forced her to face forward. Tiny, dexterous limbs had undone her belt buckle and pulled the zipper down on her shorts; Lara shuddering at the feeling of the limbs fumbling their way through the process against her underwear. More attended to her breasts, squeezing the flesh there, not painfully. They throbbed, rhythmically. 

This was not happening.

Tendrils explored, plunging down the neckline and up the hemline of her tank top, worming their way underneath her underwear. Lara’s teeth were chattering as the limbs stroked and pressed and fumbled and felt every inch of her. She whined throw clenched teeth as something the breadth or her little finger brushed against her clit—as soon as the sound escaped her lips the little limb reversed, stroking her again and again.

She was practically gushing at this attention, the warm wetness between her legs a humiliating contrast to the coldness across her body. Her whines became a full-throated moan when a thicker tentacle found her cunt and slid in with almost no difficulty, thanks to her wetness and its dexterity. She had to clench her teeth even more tightly when her moan drew a tentacle to force itself between her lips. It pushed itself in the space between her teeth and her cheek, trying to find egress to go deeper.

More tentacles snaked under her shirt, stretching the fabric until it ripped. Tentacles wormed their way underneath her sports bra, running against her nipples. Suddenly, something _latched_. It was hardly the worst bite she’d ever had, but the unexpectedness made her yelp, which was just the cue the tentacle in her mouth needed to dive between her teeth.

And still more sought entry.

A tentacle that had slid around her back and been trailing its way up her spine reversed course, twitching and trembling its way down the small of her back and lower. The tip wriggled and forced its way between her buttocks, probing at her ass. She cried out against the sickly-sweet mass in her mouth as the tentacle forced its way in. She tried to relax—there was no way to resist, best she could do was bear it—but the tentacle widened after the tip.

She gurgled in protest as she was fucked in every hole by tentacles; more slapping at her skin or seeking to join their brethren inside their prey. She was stretched painfully by the tentacles, gagged half to unconsciousness, and the creature was repeatedly driving her against the stone as it thrusted. But the pain wasn’t the worst part.

The sick thrill as the creature explored, finding every sensitive spot she had, inside or out, and played with them. The degrading heat inside her battling against the cold seeping in from the things poison. The fact that, revolting as it was, she’d never been fucked better than by this creature. Little sucker mouths lapped the fluids dripping between her legs as she faded in and out of this hazy, filthy experience. The sound of her muffled cries—not pained ones—against the tentacle in her mouth. 

It reached its peak when she came to the depraved realization that the thing’s poison had worn off when she managed to plant her feet and buck against the thing—not trying to get it off, but trying to get it deeper. Almost immediately the hazy lust was cut through by the panicked need to get away. Get out of this Tomb. Get away from the creature.

Her sudden, unplanned escape might’ve worked better if the creature wasn’t tangled around, inside and outside of her. The creature just tightened it’s embrace, a tentacle in her vagina hit her _just right_ , and her legs buckled and she collapsed back into pleasure.

**Author's Note:**

> To Harpalyke, you had such fun requests! I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did writing it.


End file.
